


i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm

by jbhmalum



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, M/M, Panic Attacks, i guess this is how anxiety manifests itself sometimes for me, some form of self-harm i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27838033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbhmalum/pseuds/jbhmalum
Summary: Ashton watches, helpless, as Michael coughs from the air finally filling his lungs properly, although properly may not be the right word. He sounds like he just spent way too long underwater, like getting air inside his lungs is more painful than not getting any, his body trying to reject it.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm

**Author's Note:**

> posted this on my old tumblr account, never got around to posting it on here, so here it is!
> 
> title from 'peace' by taylor swift.

Ashton takes the steps to the dorms two at a time, excited to finally spend time with his boyfriend after a tiring day of classes. They'd agreed to spend their Friday nights together, making time for each other as the rest of the week often got too busy to properly hang out. 

Instead, Ashton gets into the room to find Michael lying on his bed, face buried in the pillows, loud sobs wracking his whole body.

Not sure what is the best thing to do, he halts in the doorway, attempting to be silent. Should he go over and ask Michael what’s wrong? Should he leave, ask him if he’s okay later at dinner? Michael clearly hasn’t heard him come in, and Ashton knows he gets embarrassed easily, doesn’t particularly like showing vulnerability. It hurts a bit sometimes, to see Michael run to his room as soon as he starts showing any sign of being upset, but Ashton gets it. They’ve only known each other for six months, been together for two. He understands that Michael needs his space, and time to get more comfortable in their relationship.

He starts to turn around, ready to go back to his own dorm down the hall and send Michael a text to meet up for dinner, when he hears the most gut wrenching sound come out of his boyfriend’s throat.

He looks back towards the bed, and the sight he’s dealt with makes him want to cry. Michael’s hands are fisting his hair so harshly his scalp must be killing him, his body taut as a tightrope, and he’s just– he’s crying into the pillows in agony, from what Ashton doesn’t know although it doesn’t seem to be physical, screams interrupted by hiccups, and Ashton wonders how he’s possibly breathing like this.

 _"And what if he’s not?"_ his brain supplies, and his eyes widen where he's frozen in his spot. Because there are a number of ways people will try to hurt themselves, he knows. He doesn't know if Michael, _his_ Michael is the kind to take out his anger or pain onto his own body, and maybe he's not doing it on purpose right now — Ashton _hopes_ he isn't — but Michael is clearly struggling to breathe if the way his body is shivering and twitching is any indication. 

Shaking himself out of his stupor, he throws subtlety out of the window, deciding Michael's being comfortable is less important than him being safe, and makes a beeline for the far side of the bed before turning Michael on his back. 

Ashton watches, helpless, as Michael coughs from the air finally filling his lungs properly, although properly may not be the right word. He sounds like he just spent way too long underwater, like getting air inside his lungs is more painful than not getting any, his body trying to reject it. 

Michael's eyes are glassy, glazed over, but he still notices Ashton from the corner of his eye and his reaction to that is quite upsetting, to say the least. Ashton knew he wouldn't be happy about being seen like that, open and skin bare and vulnerable, but he didn't expect the way his boyfriend recoils at the sight of him. 

Michael lets out a weak skittish noise, eyes widening and breath becoming more erratic as the tugging on his hair turns even more violent. Ashton desperately wants to crawl on the bed, hold him close, but he has a feeling it would only make this worse than it already is. Unprompted touch is like poison to Michael on good days, Ashton isn't keen to try it on a day like _this_. 

“Michael?” he calls out instead, voice soft, not wanting to scare his boyfriend even more. “Michael, what’s wrong?”

Instead of answering, Michael shakes his head hysterically as his face scrunches up in pain, loud breaths coming out unevenly. Ashton is left speechless and frozen in place as Michael removes a hand from his head, a handful of hair coming with it, before grabbing a pillow and smothering his face with it.

He goes to get it away, because _Michael needs to breathe, what the hell_ , but Michael lets out another guttural scream, muffled but loud, somehow, in his small room. There’s hair all around Michael’s head but clearly not attached to it anymore, and Ashton feels like he’s going to be sick, feels like he’s suffocating himself just watching the scene.

Michael just clutches the pillow harder when Ashton starts tugging on it, feet kicking in Ashton’s general direction to try and get him away. It doesn't work; Michael is too frantic and uncoordinated and Ashton is not going away. He's _not_. 

"Michael, stop it," he says more firmly, because this has to stop. Michael doesn't stop; doesn't stop gripping or kicking or screaming, but in the end he tires himself out, grip slackening after too long. "You're okay. You're okay, love, just let me take this."

At last he's able to pry the pillow away from his boyfriend's hands, throwing it on the other side of the room, as far away from Michael's face as possible. It doesn't look like he's breathing any easier though, sobs loud and ugly catching in his throat, chest heaving with hiccups.

“Go– away,” Michael stutters, voice so hoarse Ashton can barely hear it. “Don’t look at me.”

“No, I’m not going–”

 _“Please.”_ His arms come up to hide his blotchy face, as if that would make Ashton suddenly stop perceiving him.

“Okay,” Ashton concedes, propping himself against the headboard at Michael’s side. “I’m not looking at you. But I’m not leaving you alone.”

They stay like this for a while, long enough for the room to grow darker as the sun disappears behind the campus buildings, Ashton talking mindlessly about his day and about his plans for his sister’s birthday coming up. He’s not sure Michael is processing any of it, but hopefully it provides a soothing background noise and he can calm down.

Ashton wants to glance to his right and look to make sure Michael is getting there, because the sounds he’s hearing aren’t too reassuring, but he decidedly looks straight ahead at the blank wall, occasionally turning to his left to watch the last rays of sunshine through the window.

Until finally he can hear Michael quieting down, small hiccups still making their way out of his throat every once in a while but at least he doesn’t sound like he’s about to die from asphyxiation. He feels movement on the bed, and he sees from the corner of his eye that Michael’s sitting up, mirroring Ashton.

“You don’t have to keep looking away.”

Ashton turns his head so fast he’s surprised he doesn’t hurt himself in the process. 

"Are you breathing okay?" 

"Yeah, don't– I'm sorry you had to see that." 

“It's, huh. Well it's not okay, obviously. But you don't have to apologize. Do you wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

“I don’t _know_ what’s wrong,” Michael starts, voice laced with frustration and despair.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to–”

Michael ignores him. “I just– sometimes my skin feels tight and my brain is in shambles and everything’s just– swimming around in there. Nothing makes any sense. There’s no specific thought that I can pinpoint, I just. Feel like I’m drowning. And it’s eating me up. And then I start to panic. And I get fucking crazy with it.”

He lets out a sigh, heavy and close to a sob again. He wipes at his eyes, more roughly than necessary, and Ashton just sits there, hurting for him. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s not equipped for that kind of thing.

It’s not that he doesn’t get what Michael’s saying. Ashton has days where he’s just confused, thoughts messy and ugly, where he’d kill for his brain to just shut up. But the way Michael’s describing it, the way he sounds lost and on the brink of falling apart makes Ashton ache deep in his soul. And Ashton's never felt the need to stop fucking _breathing_ , before. 

“Is that,” Ashton swallows, scared to ask the question. Well, more like scared of the answer. “Is that something that happens to you often?”

Michael lets out a bitter laugh, looks at Ashton with a sad smile. “Couple times a week. It’s been like that for about a year. 's not always that bad though, don't worry.”

“Does anyone know?” Ashton follows, hopping he doesn’t sound as shaky as he’s feeling. Panic attacks several times a week for a year straight sounds exhausting, he doesn’t know how he’d deal with that. Especially on his own.

Michael just shrugs. “Not really. My parents know about the social anxiety; I had to tell them when I started suffocating in the middle of my cousin’s birthday party like two years ago. But that’s it.”

“God, Michael,” Ashton breathes out. That sounds so incredibly lonely, not having anybody to lean on or talk to about this. He’s gonna make sure it’s not the case anymore. “Can I– Can I touch you? I mean you can say no, but I feel like you could use a hug and–”

Before he knows it he's got an armful of Michael, a mop of soft blond hair tickling his neck, hands clutching at his shirt. Ashton is left dumbfounded. That's just never happened before. They've hugged maybe three times when they're not kissing, and each time Michael had to work up to it. Even then he never clung to Ashton like his life depended on it. Ashton hugs him back as gently as possible, touch light as a feather. 

"Thanks, Ash," Michael whispers against his neck. 

"For what?" 

"For being here. For staying, even when I told you to leave."

"I'll stay for as long as you need me to." 

Michael's started crying silently again, Ashton can feel the tears staining his shirt, but this time he sounds relieved, and grateful, and Ashton's own eyes start welling up in sympathy. He doesn't understand, but that's okay.

As the sunshine fades and all the light with it, Ashton promises himself he'll give his everything to keep Michael warm and safe. There's enough fire in him for him to do it until the end of times, and he intends to do just that.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!  
> comments/kudos are always appreciated :)  
> also i'm on [tumblr](https://michaelownsmyheart.tumblr.com/) if you want to come say hi!


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